


Good Tidings For Christmas and a Happy New Year

by twitch



Category: Jersey Boys - Gaudio/Crewe/Brickman/Elice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/twitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December holidays aren't just about Christmas. And Crewe can never resist throwing a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Tidings For Christmas and a Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> So I may be taking some further liberty with the infamous words "Late December back in '63, what a very special time for me." ;) I will also add this is intended to be written within the context of Jersey Boys, movie or play, take your pick. I'm making no implications of real life situations or the men behind the "characters."

The day was young, or so he imagined. December mornings weren’t known for being bright but even if that morning was the exception someone had made the precaution of loosening the drapes. As a result the hotel suite was dim and a glance at the windows gave no hint at the time. Had there been any clocks in the suite he hadn’t stumbled across one yet.

Stumbling was an apt word. He wasn’t drunk like the others, the many others who occupied any flat surface they could find. No one was sleeping on the floor, thank God, but arms were flung over the edges of beds and couches alike and he didn’t want to kick anyone in the process of navigating the dark. He did need water though. His mouth was rather dry when he startled awake, an oddity for not being drunk. The bathroom was occupied, locked, so he was forced to make his way to the suite’s kitchenette.

The kitchenette was little more than a bar, two counters opposite from each other, one loitered with dirty glasses and empty bottles, the other with more garbage and a sink that regardless its small size served his needs. Away from sleeping bodies he could move around freely looking for a clean glass from the shelves. It didn’t look promising. Had they really cleaned the kitchenette out?

“I don’t think this one’s been used.” 

Bob turned around, surprised mostly for the fact that of all the other people to be awake he was facing Nick. He looked fairly alert for what was definitely earlier than his normal wake up time. “Good morning,” Bob greeted, keeping a chuckle to himself. Taking the glass he inspected it. Aside from a couple of water marks from when it was last cleaned it was certainly unused. 

“I was going to use the washroom but… apparently it’s occupied.”

This time he did laugh. Bob kept an eye on Nick though he turned towards the sink. “I would’ve gotten a drink from there but I had to come out here. Did we really invite this many people over?” 

Casting a quick backwards glance Nick lifted one shoulder. “If Tommy didn’t invite them they found their way over on their own, and as long as they’re pretty women I know he won’t turn them away.” 

“You wouldn’t either,” Bobby reminded once he had his glass of water. 

“Who would?” Nick took the glass from Bobby’s hand before he had the chance to have a drink. Smirking around the rim he took a gulp before handing it back. 

A look of disdain crossed his face as he set the glass on the counter. “Tommy made sure I wouldn’t.”

“He thought you would like her,” Nick commented, giving him a knowing look.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement though his expression was wry. “I believe her intentions were to ensure I enjoyed myself.” 

“Did you?”

“Who wouldn’t?” It wasn’t an exact echo of Nick’s words but it was close enough to have him chuckling. “Tommy must’ve enjoyed himself because I haven’t heard anything from his room.”

“He may still be entertaining, he was our Christmas host.” Tapping his fingers firmly on the counter Nick’s expression lit up. “Speaking of, Merry Christmas.”

It took Bob a second to realise that yes, it was officially Christmas. The night before Tommy pointed out that it was Christmas Eve until you went asleep. For once Bob didn’t argue with Tommy. “Merry Christmas Nick.”

“Are you going to unwrap your gift?” Nick asked, still grinning.

Bob kept a straight face though on the inside he was smirking. “I did that last night.”

Nick chuckled for him, clasping him by the shoulder with a warm hand. “That you did Bobby, that you did.” 

The protest on his lips was brushed off by warmer lips.

Pressing his lips together Bob pulled back from a full out stare at Nick’s back, lowering his gaze to the counter. Once Nick slipped out of view into the hallway he picked up the glass, taking a long drink.

*

It was no surprise that the party Crewe invited them to was nothing short of elaborate – and brilliant. Crewe or one of his decorators had altered the lighting in his apartment in favour of stringing garlands of lights from the ceiling and around the walls. Most traditional decorations were discarded in favour of the modern lighting scheme but the occasional splash of red and green was illuminated within a patch of white Christmas-shaped figures or from the shadows in between.

Bob wasn’t sure if Frankie’s parents or Mary’s were looking after the girls but the couple made it to the party. When they weren’t arm in arm, Frankie separated by conversations with executives and friends now long familiar made through Crewe, Mary was hand in hand with a drink. Which number she was on now, he didn’t know. 

Bob took a sip of his wine, tearing his gaze away from Mary, searching for someone to distract him. His gaze landed first on Frankie, talking with Crewe’s decorator, also Mary’s target. Shifting his eyes some more he found Tommy talking with a blonde in a one-shouldered white gown. It was the only request Crewe made for the party, for people to dress in black or white. Shadow or light. Past or future. 

He would’ve snorted into his glass but a gentlemen bumped into him, purposely if the conversation that followed was any indication.

From conversation to conversation the night progressed, from friends to strangers and to friends again. His judgement towards Mary passed when his glass was replaced with a full one and when that second one was empty he received a third. The apartment glowed around him, outfits of white and black blurring and vanishing before his eyes. 

Whoever had the idea, Crewe or his decorator, he was responsible for the headache he knew he would have by the morning.

Eventually he was by the window, the cool pane pressed to the back of his neck, nodding and bidding goodbye to yet another shadow floating off to say hello to someone she recognised. He considered closing his eyes but a familiar voice stopped him.

“You don’t look too good,” Nick commented from his left.

Half-hooded eyes required a strong effort to open fully. “Do you like Crewe’s theme for the night?” Bob asked.

“It’s…. suitable,” Nick replied after a long pause to consider, in which Bob took another sip of his wine. “For tonight. For him. It’s a transition, it’s the shade of grey between.” 

Bob choked on his drink, laughing in disbelief. “Sorry, I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Should I be keeping my intelligent moments all to myself?” Nick asked, amused by what should’ve been considered a dig at his expense.

“No, please don’t. That was unerringly – very accurate.” It took a few attempts to regulate his breathing before he could lift his head again. A last deep breath and he cautioned to look at Nick. “The whole black and white theme paired with this lighting is playing tricks on my eyes.”

“It’s different, but that’s normal coming from him.” Nick had his own drink but he hadn’t drank from it since joining him, holding it in his hand, occasionally bringing it to his mouth but stopping before he could take a sip. “You need to step outside? I’ll cover for you.”

“I’ll be alright.” Hesitating to take a drink of his own wine he straightened up. “I won’t be telling him that I prefer the last party to this one.”

“Tommy’s?” Laughing under his breath Nick shook his head. “I guess it is hard to live up to your Christmas gift. Have you… been in touch with her?”

“Ahh…” No longer deliberating he took a heavy swallow. “No.”

“That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

Bob shook his head. “She was nice but…”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work out.” Nick understood, or was willing to let it go. Bob watched him, watched his glass, wondering if he was another victim of magical glasses. “And I won’t tell Crewe either.”

Murmuring faintly, almost a laugh for whether Nick knew of his other reasons, Bob took one last look at the window. “For all of his questionable decorating decisions, I will have to commend him on his use of mistletoe.”

“He did?” Looking up, expecting to find it on the ceiling, Nick didn’t see it right away. Bob had to help him, gesturing to above his head, the sprig fastened to the string of lights that arced against the section of the window they were leaning again. “Should I feel slighted that no one came running over to me?”

“I did see a couple of women but I think they didn’t come over because we were talking,” Bob admitted, a hand sweeping outward but kept tightly to them, not wanting to draw attention but referring to the room at large, who was certainly unaware of them and their conversation.

“Or you scared them off.”

Fingers tightening around the stem of his glass he arched an eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who could scare anyone, especially grown women when it comes to you?” 

“Now that you mention it…” Nick shifted so that he was looking at him from the side, shoulder against the window. “It sounds like you could be the one a bit scared.”

“It wasn’t…” Steeling himself he lowered his voice, “only about that girl at Tommy’s party.” 

“Do I have to tell Tommy that he got you the wrong girl?”

Bob leaned in, trying to make it look that their conversation had dropped to a whisper, brushed his lips against Nick’s cheek. “There isn’t any girl, not this time.”

Nick twisted his head to look at him properly. Bob schooled himself for a rebuttal, verbal or physical, flinching when Nick put his drink down. “Let’s step outside.”

“What for?” Safe in the apartment, surrounded by a crowd of party-goers, Bob knew there was no chance Nick would hit him.

Nick carefully took the glass out Bob’s hand. “Do you think people wouldn’t be watching when you kiss me?” 

Slipping out of the party and away was easier than he thought it would be. Nick led the way down the hallway, away from the elevators. The music and voices carried after them, filling the silence though he was tempted to say something. When he realised that Nick was opening the door to the stairwell Bob did. “We’re going in there?” 

“If we could hear them from the hallway, all hundred of them, what are the chances they can hear the two of us all the way down here?” Nick asked, holding the door open for him.

He was about to protest but not trusting anyone to overhear them he stepped into the stairwell. “I’m only asking for a kiss.” 

Nick nodded and eased the door shut, audible to only them. “If that’s what you want.” Bob managed a nod, breath trapped in his chest. “Did you want to kiss me, or do you want me to kiss you?”

“Maybe you should.” He barely got the words out, lightheaded but taking one step forward.

Nick took the extra steps needed, close enough to kiss but stopping short. “I kissed you Christmas morning, do you want a kiss like that?”

Bob nodded, his head that little bit closer. “More than that.”

One hand rose, reaching for his arm, but stilled in mid-air. He wasn’t sure why of all people Nick would be hesitating but that question flitted out of his conscious mind when those lips were back on his. 

He hadn’t thought at all about what it felt like the first time.

He was also not a song-writer.

It wasn’t a brush of lips. It wasn’t the hint of morning breath.

It was firmer, the sharp taste of wine. 

It wasn’t a protest.

It was reciprocating. 

It was only a kiss.

It wasn’t enough.

Nick stepped back, his hand falling the rest of the way to his side. “Good?”

He wasn’t sober and he wasn’t drunk. His head was spinning, a slow twist that he mirrored outwardly. He tried to answer but managed two mumbled words. “Not enough.”

“What?”

What Nick hadn’t managed to do Bob did, taking hold of Nick’s arm. It wasn’t a bare arm like last time, now covered by a white dress shirt under a black suit jacket. “More,” Bob clarified.

It wasn’t like the first.

It wasn’t like the second.

It was like before, warm lips and wine, with a slow coaxing that had him holding tighter as it became more. Nick remained hands off even if he was being drawn in deeper, pulling out a plea verging on a moan.

Oh. So that’s what he meant when he decided on the stairwell.

“Now?” 

When he didn’t reply right away Nick’s hand came up to his face. Long fingers against his cheek were meant to bring him to his senses but Bob nearly closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “I really don’t believe you.”

Nick laughed soundlessly, shaking his head. “Cheeky.”

“Make me believe you,” Bob insisted, fighting and losing the battle to keep a straight face.

Turning him towards the wall, Nick came in for a quick kiss. “Believe me, I will.”

Then it was long, slow and deliberate, hands no longer shy, aiding and bettering.

Hopefully no one would miss them for a while.


End file.
